


Peace and Papercraft

by LittleSpider



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Origami, Tequila's POV, friendship fluff, unlikely friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12686337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpider/pseuds/LittleSpider
Summary: Tequila wants some peace and quiet, and for some reason, the only place you can get that, outside of the outhouse, is the padded cell of their resident Lepidopterist





	Peace and Papercraft

Agent Tequila was whistling something from the Jukebox in Shitkickers, the local dive bar. He could barely make out the words to the slurring, burring twang of the singer, but damn, the guitar rhythm was catchy.

He was on down time. Which meant he had to stick around, but wasn't specifically on the clock.

More or less, he'd finished his work on duty and Champ still wanted to talk to him, but was too busy to seem him just yet, so he decided to head to the bar, until Moonshine started hollering at the TV set because his team happened to be sucking a hell of a lot more than usual.

Sometimes, after you'd been partying the night before, 90 dB yelling from a tanked up trucker wasn't what you wanted.

So he knew the perfect place to head to.

Butterfly-Guy was Ginger's pet project.

Her and him had found the poor guy outside of that shithole church in South Glade with a bullet hole where his eye used to be an a pulse as weak as a 2 day old kitten.

Ginger had worked her magic on him and brought him back from the brink but as expected, he had no fucking clue who he was.

She'd tried pretty much everything in these last few months to bring him back to who he was, convinced he was intelligence from the get up she found him in.

Camera lenses in his glasses, a ring that shocked you if you touched it a certain way, his fancy suit was like tailored chain-mail and judging by how much DNA she found on him from other people, he'd taken down at least three quarters of that church personally.

Looking at him now, Tequila couldn't imagine that sap so much as letting a door shut on someone behind him without stammering apologies, let alone beat the shit out of anyone.

He folded his arms in Ginger's office, having made it down there with a bottle of beer and a protein bar and was watching him today.

He was absorbed in something to do with paper that he was creasing habitually and flipping over.

“He about lost his mind?” he asked Ginger as she was looking through a magnifying glass, adjusting some wiring on a motherboard.

“Origami.” she replied quietly, not taking her eyes off her work.

“...That English?”

“Japanese art of paper-folding.”

Tequila scoffed.

“Sounds like the Japanese have too much time on their hands. Only paper I wanna be foldin' is dollars into a strippers panties.”

“Jason.” she said testily, raising her head. “Is there a reason for this visit?”

“Peace 'n' Quiet, Ging', you know me. Was gonna go in and sit with him for a bit, try and get him to open up a little.”

Ginger finally raised her head from her work and pinned Tequila with an cynical look. “...You?”

“Come on, darlin'. You know I got highest NPL outta my group. I could sell cocaine to Pablo Escobar.”

Ginger shook her head fondly and smiled.

“If you think it would work, be my guest.” she offered, gesturing her hand towards the door invitingly. “...But if you irritate, upset, or otherwise cause a negative reaction to him, you're done.”

Tequila put his hand on his chest, the bottle pincered between his thumb and forefinger.

“Y'hurt me, Ging. Would I do anythin' t'upset that guy?”

“You called him a Vegetable on Thursday.”

“Yeah, not to his face.”

With that Tequila stood up, put his bottle on her desk, cleared this throat and headed into the Butterfly-Guys chamber.

He opened the door and at once the man, who referred to himself as Harry raised his head and looking at him in confusion before blinking a few times and smiling.

“...Jason...?” he asked, his eyebrow moving in uncertainty over his eye, wondering if he had got it right.

“That's right.” Tequila nodded, closing the door behind him. “Thought y'all could do with some company with your paper foldin'.”

“Oh, it's called Origami, Jason.” Butterfly-Guy explained, gesturing to the scraps of paper, some a little more crumpled than others. “My mother taught my sister and I how to do it when we were children. I thought a few specimens might brighten up the place.”

Tequila looked around.

Admittedly, it was a glorified padded cell.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Would you care to join me?” Butterfly-Guy asked, gesturing to the bed where he could sit if he so wanted.

Tequila could have made his excuses, but hell, where else would he have gone? If he went with the horses he'd have been accused of smelling like 400lbs of horse shit by champ, or if he'd have headed to the gift shop to mosey around he'd have been photographed...again, by those tourists.

Least here he could learn a new trick.

“Sure.” He agreed.

Butterfly-Guy smiled, really smiled. Like someone turned on a light-bulb behind his eye.

He slid across a piece of paper to him. Square, a little bigger than a bar mat.

“Alright...” he smiled, looking to Tequila briefly before back at his own piece of paper. “...This is a water-bomb or a paper balloon fold. We need this to be the base for the design and it's very simple.”

Tequila looked to Butterfly-Guy's hands that seemed uncertain as they moved over the piece of paper.

“We need to fold corner to corner so it looks like a triangle.” he explained, making the crease with precision.

Tequila attempted to follow, with the same amount of care, part of getting Butterfly-Guy to trust him.

“Like this?” he asked, jutting his jaw with concentration.

Butterfly-Guy looked over and nodded with a smile.

“Perfect. And then unfold...and the other way, with the other corners.”

He demonstrated how he meant and Tequila followed suit with a smile.

“Look at that, so damn straight and neat y'could set your pocket watch by it.”

Butterfly-Guy smiled and nodded.

“Well done. Now comes the tricky part, you need to fold in the folds you have made, like this.”

He managed to push in the folds, leaving a triangle that looked more like a pointed popcorn box.

Tequila looked at his own daunting piece of paper and tried the same manever as Butterfly-Guy watched and managed to mangle it to look like his.

“Yeah?”

The older man gave a sort of, encouraging nod though obviously pained by how many creases there were in his students.

“Next, we fold down these two corners to make a diamond shape with this side, but underneath, the other side will still be--”

“I ain't gonna get this.” Tequila sighed.

“Nonsense, if my mother could get my sister to concentrate, then you can manage, I'm sure.”

Tequila tilted his head.

“Tell me about what it's like growin' up in England, d'y'all have those fancy black cabs and red payphone boxes and have the Queen of England on kitchen towels like I saw in magazines?”

Butterfly-Guy gave a soft chuckle, and inclined his head.

“...Sort of.” He folded his paper in the way he had described, his fingers moving over the paper carefully. “Where I live, it's quite old. Lots of old academic buildings, pretty streets, always something to photograph, or watch.”

Tequila nodded, trying to figure out where that was.

“That London?”

“No. Close though. Oxfordshire.”

Tequila was now trying to copy what Butterfly-Guy was doing.

“What do you do?” asked Tequila, looking to Butterfly-Guy, for any changes in behaviour or any signs of recognition.

“I'm not sure what to do now that I've finished my degree.” he sighed, flipping the paper over and folding. “I'd like to continue this, my Lepidoptery. Become one of the most foremost names in Entomology, but Mother worries about my travelling to Asia with all those frightful diseases and insects and such. Father would like me to join the Army, which I wouldn't be opposed to, but once more, mother wouldn't approve, though, I think at the same time she wouldn't mind as I would be well looked after.”

Tequila had paused in his folding.

Shit. This guy was a mama's boy and no mistakin'. Maybe he was in the army, cos he sure wasn't fresh out of College.

“Well, what do you wanna do?” Tequila asked. “You wanna go chasin' butterflies or you wanna be in the army?”

Butterfly-Guy looked mildly offended.

“It's not just running after butterflies with a net, Jason.” he rebuked quietly, only meeting his gaze for a moment. “It's capturing them, studying them, their life cycles, their feeding habits, comparing them to other species and seeing the effects of their environment. A little more involved than just being told to shoot a gun at someone.”

Fella, if only you knew...

Tequila knew that if he continued on with this line of questioning that Ginger would have him out in a heartbeat.

“...So, when you get better, you gonna go off home and ask your mama?”

Butterfly-Guy, who was now folding something that looked like blades on the paper, paused.

“I don't know. You see...my sister died when she was younger, so my mother is afraid to lose me.”

Tequila felt his heart tug in his chest, he knew what he was talking about. Since his daddy walked out, his mama had been real protective over him and his sisters, so much so when he announced he was joining the local rodeo as a rodeo clown she cried into the laundry she was doin' all night, convinced he was gonna break his damn neck.

“I got sisters.” Tequila admitted. “Five of 'em.”

“Five, goodness me. Is your family Catholic too?”

Tequila had no idea what Butterfly-Guy was talking about.

“Baptist. Sorta. We go church but we don't do none of that snakes and tin tub baptismal shit.”

Butterfly-Guy was smiling at him.

“Five sisters, are you the oldest?” he asked, genuinely interested.

“Yeah. By six years. Mama said that she must'a had a boy first to prepare for havin' all them girls under her feat. 'Pparanetly, I was worse than five of 'em put together.”

Butterfly-Guy gave a soft chuckle.

“Dear me. So what do you do now? Ginger said that you work with her, but, you don't look very much like a doctor.”

Tequila wasn't sure what his 'unofficial' title was.

“I'm sorta...like a janitor. I clean up messes, take care of problems, make sure we ain't got no rats...Can I see that paper do-dad you just went and made?”

Butterfly-Guy handed him an Origami butterfly and looked at him vaguely.

“I assumed you were a cowboy.” Butterfly-Guy admitted candidly. “I think it was the stetson, and the denim and the boots. But then, I couldn't fathom why a Cowboy would be helping a doctor. So...I sort of imagined you were...a figment of my imagination. Which is why I wanted you to...fold the butterfly up for me, so I had proof that I wasn't going insane...”

Tequila felt another tug at his heartstrings, and instead of rambling on like some fool, or stammering and going to get Ginger, he held up his own, slightly creased, but still adequately executed Origami butterfly.

“Could a figment of your imagination go and make that, now?” he grinned.

Butterfly-Guy smiled.

“...You see?” he sighed. “I knew you could do it.”

Tequila handed it to him.

“You ain't goin' crazy, buddy.” he reassured softly, so softly Ginger wouldn't hear him and accuse him of getting soft on her.

Butterfly-Guy accepted it, and looked at the slightly dishevelled, but perfectly passable butterfly.

“Strange, how beautiful things can be so complicated under the surface...”

Tequila gave a soft huff of a laugh.

“I'll use that next time I'm tryin' to score.”

He could almost hear Ginger hiss in his name in his ear.

“...Would you mind, Jason, if I excused myself?” Butterfly-Guy asked. “I'm so sorry, I don't mean to seem rude, but I'm quite terribly tired.”

“Sure, sure. You sleep well now.” Tequila replied, moving towards the door.

Butterfly-Guy smiled appreciatively, holding the Origami piece as he moved towards the bed.

“Goodnight Jason.”

“Night Butterfly-Guy.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For me, Tequila was sort of able to get on with Harry in his Amnesiac state because he was so benign and so easy to please and speak to.  
> And Harry liked Tequila because of his direct and blunt nature which made him easy to understand.
> 
> Hope people like it


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